Kib can't so much flee. He can shriek - he can lurch in the direction of the nearest house and try the door - it's locked. He can amble briskly...
He can break into a run when the snake gains on him and fall flat on his face.
And he can get eaten up.
And it's too bright too bright too bright and he flings his arm over his eyes.
"All you'd really need for mass production is appropriately shaped chassis in the desired quantity and a handful of automata to etch them," Kib says. "If you make a sufficiently generic chassis, sure."
"I'll get a generic chassis design with plenty of surface area worked out after the scribe's done. Should be in a few days at this point."
"And I don't have quite your aversion to interruptions, I can do the same thing for a while but not unbrokenly."
"Portal project might even help with that if your psychology's like humans' in the 'gosh, those other people are so different, my next door neighbor is so normal by comparison' department."
His father looks at him as if he's really noticed for the first time that he's there. "You've always found people more interesting in the specific than in the general."
"Have I?"
"You finding Kib so delightful wouldn't be surprising, you finding general human society that fascinating would be a change of pace."
"I guess I've been thinking on a different scale."
"Suspect we scale differently, anyway. I keep meeting people all from this one family, here; I don't branch off like that, humans're pretty atomized."
"That's hardly fair," Maitimo says, "I have lots of things to command my attention -"
"And reasonably good taste," says his father, "so things that are a good use of your attention get it right away. I'm less confident in Tirion's populace. For example, less than a third of them have learned the common."
"I don't know how disappointed to be in that; I'm used to thinking of learning a language as a major time investment. I'm still not very good at Quenya."
"I've been assuming Elves are just better at languages than humans usually are but I'm not sure what you can possibly mean by 'intellectually inclined' if he doesn't count."
"That's not what I want for you."
"And not my fated path, apparently."
"I favor averting your fated path, but you at least didn't seem incompetent at it."
"You two," Nerdanel says, "need to say whatever you actually mean, this is ridiculous."
They stare at each other for a minute.
"I am upset with you," Maitimo says, "because I apparently commit terrible crimes and you apparently murder my brother and now you are making more and better desperately important Silmarils which perhaps some day I'll murder tens of thousands of innocents to retrieve and I am worried we've made fate pick up the pace instead of preventing it."
"I am upset," Fëanáro says, "because it seems I have fifty Years to figure out how to fight a Vala and that's not enough time and I'm worried if I'm not good enough you're going to end up tortured until we can only recognize you by the hair."
"There we go," Nerdanel says wearily.
...Kib is not sure he has anything to add here. Except the handsqueeze he cannot produce in company.
"- um? It is in general horrifying when people are tortured and wind up probably mentally warped in some way such that they go on to massacre people, and in specific horrifying when it's Maitimo. I would like it to not happen and I'm working on it best I can. What are you looking for exactly here."